


Violence

by sister_wolf



Series: Devil's Road [4]
Category: Hard Core Logo (1996), Lone Hero (2002), due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-08
Updated: 2004-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-12 09:39:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sister_wolf/pseuds/sister_wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray's alone in the room when he wakes up, thick-headed and groggy and trying to remember where the hell he is.  He remembers quickly enough when he sees the note.  It's lying on top of a pile of Ray's clothes, neatly folded and stacked on a chair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Violence

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after _Hard Core Logo_ and includes spoilers for the end of the movie. Knowledge of _Lone Hero_ is definitely not necessary to read this; those of you who do remember the movie will notice that I've changed canon in a few significant places. Huge thanks to my awesome betas, Brooklinegirl, Heuradys, and Justacat.
> 
> IMPORTANT WARNING: This series is unfinished and will never be finished. It also ends at a particularly bad point in the plot. I really do apologize for that.

Ray's alone in the room when he wakes up, thick-headed and groggy and trying to remember where the hell he is. He remembers quickly enough when he sees the note. It's lying on top of a pile of Ray's clothes, neatly folded and stacked on a chair.

 _Had an early morning meeting. Don't worry about the hotel bill, it's covered. See you later._ It isn't signed.

Ray sits back down a little too hard, winces, and shifts to lie on his side. _See you later. Yeah, right. I never thought I'd be the one getting the morning-after brush-off from some guy who picked me up at a bar and fucked me. Dammit._

He can't lie there forever, but it sounds really fucking tempting. Everything hurts, not just the area in question. And his head hurts from crying like an idiot.

He feels strange, sort of empty inside. Tries to think about the whole thing with Fraser, but it's like his brain knows how much it'll hurt if he thinks about him too much, so Ray's thoughts kind of slide away from him. He feels numb.

Last night, Cal held Ray while he cried and then cuddled with him until he slept. Ray wonders how long Cal had to stay and pretend to care before he could escape-- whether the "early morning meeting" was Cal needing to get home before his wife woke up.

The only things he knows about Cal are his name and that he works for the FBI. If his ID is even real, because Ray's not taking anything he said at face value. He could run a database search and find out whether a damn thing Cal told him was the truth. But what would be the point?

Ray rubs his eyes, rolls out of bed, and goes to take a shower. It's 7 am, and he needs to get moving if he wants to get to work on time.

* * *

 _You're a stupid, selfish bastard, Calhoun Mackenzie._ It was supposed to be all about Ray, all about giving him a chance to pretend he was with Fraser. Not about Cal at all, not about what he wanted or needed. _So I'm a selfish fucking asshole. What's new, really?_

Cal scowls, signing another fucking form. At this point, he's signed so many goddamned forms that he's stopped reading them. Which is stupid, especially when dealing with the Bureau, but what the hell. He really doesn't care that much anymore.

Maybe that's what got him about Ray. Ray _cares_ so goddamned much, so fucking passionate about everything, and it just blindsided him. Blindsided him, seduced him, dragged him under, made him feel like someone to be passionate about.

Except that all that passion was supposed to be for _Fraser_ , not for Cal. And he's a stupid, selfish fuck for wanting that passion for myself. But he just-- fuck. He just wanted someone to see him, really see _him_.

He comes to the end of his pile of forms and looks up at the Bureau gorilla they've got watching over him: big guy in a generic gray suit, blue tie, short hair, blank face. Cal used to look just like him. Maybe he used to think just like him too. He's having trouble remembering.

"Well? You got more forms for me? Cause I'm just getting the hang of selling my soul, you know."

The gorilla doesn't even blink. "That's everything. You're free to go, Mr. Mackenzie."

Cal is almost to the door, almost out of here for good, when the gorilla puts out one tree-trunk sized arm and blocks his path. "Your ID, Mr. Mackenzie."

Right. Cal unclips his ID from his lapel, remembering Ray showing him his badge in the hallway at the bar. The memory gives him the strength to flash the gorilla a mocking smile as he hands him the card. It's just a card, just some forms, just fifteen years of Cal's life, signed and countersigned and marked CONFIDENTIAL in red block letters.

The gorilla takes his ID with a grunt of acknowledgement and leads the way to the elevator banks in silence. Cal follows obediently along-- after all, obedience has gotten him this far. Hell, at least he's getting a nice severance package out of this mess. Payment for his silence, he supposes. But who the fuck would he want to tell?

Like an echo at the back of his mind, Cal hears a familiar mocking voice-- _Well, looks like we can't come back to Idaho anymore_ \-- and it's all he can do to follow the gorilla onto the elevator without stumbling.

* * *

Two days later, and Ray's hanging out at another bar. Not the same one, cause there's no way in hell he wants to risk running into Cal again. Just a quiet neighborhood place, haze of smoke in the air, football game playing on a few TVs over the bar, factory workers and secretaries and a few off-duty cops from the 14th. Ray nods hello, friendly but not too friendly. He's not interested in swapping cop gossip over a couple of beers. Not tonight. He snags a stool at the far end of the bar, ordering a beer when the bartender wanders over in his direction.

Ray could have just stayed at the apartment and watched the game there-- the beer would have been a hell of a lot cheaper-- but the walls were beginning to close in on him. The last thing he wants to do is think, but that's all he seems to do anymore. He's been so fucking distracted at work, he's amazed Welsh hasn't been riding his ass more. But Welsh has actually been pretty decent, considering that Ray recently took six weeks off to explore the wonders of Nature's Frozen Wasteland without exactly getting the time off approved first.

No, and hell no, he's not supposed to be thinking about Fraser right now. Except the only other thing to think about is Cal, and that's almost worse. At least Fraser didn't fucking _use_ him.

Nah, Frase never used him. Irritated him, frustrated him, drove him absolutely fucking bugshit crazy, but Fraser never used him. Maybe it'd be better if he had-- at least then Ray could be mad at him. But he can't be mad, because Fraser was just-- being Fraser, and if it made Ray fall in love with him then it's his own damn fault.

Ray wonders if Fraser's settling in now, at Moose Junction, Middle of Nowhere, Northwest Territories, or wherever they ended up sending him. Wonders if he misses Chicago at all. _Nah, he's probably happy as a clam. Happier than a clam, even. I bet he's the big red lobster of Canadian happiness._

Fuck, he doesn't want to think about this anymore. He glances around the bar, people-watching, anything to distract himself from the way his thoughts are running around in circles. So of course he's looking right at the door just as Cal walks in.

Long black leather coat, jeans, boots, dark red shirt. Black hair spiked up a little, glint of silver at one earlobe. Might as well be wearing a big flashing neon sign that says _Here comes trouble_. Ray swallows, hard. He'd like to look away, pretend not to be interested, but he wants to see the look on Cal's face when he sees him. Whether he looks guilty at all. Whether he pretends not to recognize him. Ray has to know.

Predatory. That's how he looks when he sees Ray watching him. Stalks him from across the length of the room, sits down at the bar stool next to his, and it's just like Thursday night, except that Ray's body is humming with the knowledge of what it's like to be fucked by this guy. Knowledge, yeah, and anticipation, _hell_ yeah.

"Didn't expect to see you again." _Jesus, could I sound any more whiny?_

"Said I'd see you later, didn't I?" Cal flashes a quick grin, sounding completely unconcerned.

"I guess. How'd you find me?" This isn't one of his normal hangouts, and it's nowhere near the bar from Thursday night.

"I still have some contacts." Cal shrugs, flags down the bartender, orders a beer.

Ray stares down at the scarred surface of the bar, tapping his fingers on the edge. It's tempting to just say fuck it, forget about everything, take Cal to a hotel room and screw his brains out. He'd be getting used again, but if he's using Cal too, no harm, no foul, right?

There's an awkward silence while they pretend to watch the game, but they both know that's not the real game, not tonight.

"Listen, do you want to get out of here?" Cal's barely taken a sip of his beer. His eyes are dark and hungry.

Fuck regrets. Ray throws a couple dollars on the bar and stands up. "Let's go."

* * *

Cal unlocks the door of his hotel room and drops the keycard on the dresser. No more lakeside Hilton, since the Bureau isn't footing the bill anymore. Just a generic room at an affordable hotel. At least the bed is nice and big. Cal's got plans for it.

Ray stops just inside the door and smiles at him menacingly, all sharp teeth and narrowed eyes. "Take your clothes off, Cal."

Cal kicks his boots off, tosses his coat on a chair. Unbuttons his shirt, slowly. Lets it slide off his shoulders. Ray's slouching against the wall, his expression neutral, but his eyes give him away.

Cal unbuttons his jeans and casually lies down on the bed, right hand tucked just inside the waistband, left hand tucked behind his head. Gives Ray a challenging look.

Ray saunters over and trails a hand up Cal's leg. "Thought I told you to take all of your clothes off," he says, tugging at a belt loop. The jeans, like the rest of Cal's clothes, are a lot looser than they used to be. Living on whiskey, coffee, and cigarettes for a few months tends to have that effect.

"Figured I'd save the best part for you." Cal crosses one ankle over the other and grins up at him, baring his teeth. There's no way in hell that Ray can dominate him, but he's welcome to try.

Ray straddles him, kneeling on the bed with his knees to either side of Cal's hips. Cal takes advantage of the position and thrusts up against him, feeling his hard-on through two layers of denim. Ray rolls with it, not letting him get enough friction. "Both hands behind your head," he says, tapping Cal's right hand.

"And assume the position?" Cal asks teasingly, tucking both hands under his head.

"Just let me get my handcuffs--"

" _No._ " Cal realizes that he said it a little too loud, a little too violently, when Ray was just kidding around. "No handcuffs," he says, trying to sound calmer. "I don't do that shit."

Ray's eyes narrow and he nods, not saying anything, but Cal can tell he's filed that reaction away in his mental profile. Cal can't complain too much about that-- after all, he tends to do the same thing. Hazard of the profession.

Ray runs his hands over Cal's chest, circling his nipples with his fingers, which feels nice, but doesn't give him the same kind of charge that it seemed to give Ray. Inspired by that thought, Cal pulls his right hand from behind his head and goes for one of Ray's nipples, rolling it between his fingertips. Ray gasps and closes his eyes for a second.

"Hey. Thought I told you to keep your hands behind your head," he says, a little unsteadily.

Cal shrugs. "I'm not a patient man."

"What, you were getting bored?"

Cal makes a show of putting his hand back behind his head, looking at Ray expectantly. "Go on."

Ray growls under his breath and leans forward to nip at his shoulder warningly. Cal can't help but suck in a deep breath at that. Ray pauses to grin at him triumphantly. "Still bored?"

Cal tries to look uninterested, but Ray isn't buying it. He's got Cal's number now, and he knows it.

Ray starts biting at the side of his neck, top of his shoulder, wherever he can reach, and Cal's poker face is gone, just gone. He's shivering and moaning and turning his head so Ray can reach more of his neck. Somehow, Ray knows just the right way to bite-- firm, but not hard, nothing that's going to bruise or break the skin, just the perfect pressure, hot mouth, tongue, licking, sucking, nipping, oh _fuck_ yeah.

Ray leaves a little stinging trail up the side of his neck, reaches the side of his jaw, bites down and holds on. Cal has no fucking idea why that spot seems to have a direct connection to his dick, but it's like a tide of heat rolling down his body.

Ray lets go, gives him this incredibly mischievous grin, and Cal can tell he's about to make some sort of smart-assed comment. So he takes advantage of the fact that Ray's off balance to flip them over. Ray lands on the bed with a little _oof!_ , looking surprised for about half a second, and then smug. "Something the matter?" he drawls.

"What's the matter," Cal growls, straight into his ear, "is that I'm about to fucking die of waiting here." He nips his earlobe for good measure, making Ray jump.

"You can't-- oh-- die of waiting, Cal," he says, laughing.

Smug little fucker. Cal heads down his chest, taking a long side-trip to his nipples. Takes one between his teeth and nibbles on it, lashes it with the tip of his tongue, and soon Ray's starting to babble again. Cal loves that he's a talker, fucking turns him the hell on, as long as Ray's not fantasizing that he's Fraser. Hell, even that turned him on, as jealous as it made him feel.

"Oh damn, oh-- god, now I'm gonna die of waiting-- fuck, Cal, oh fuck me..."

Cal lets go of his nipple, enjoying the way Ray arches his back to try to get his mouth on it again. "Well, when you put it so nicely..."

Ray looks dazed. "Huh?"

"Then again, I've been thinking about tasting you all. Day. Long." Cal takes his loud groan for an enthusiastic endorsement of the idea.

Ray's so hard it must be starting to get painful, still trapped in his jeans. Actually, Cal's starting to feel a little constricted too, so he kicks off his jeans and boxers.

"Nice," Ray drawls, leering.

Straddling his legs, Cal gives himself a few good pulls-- damn, feels good, a little _too_ good, gotta stop that or it'll be over too soon-- "Like what you see?"

"Yeah." His voice has gone husky and low. "You planning on doing something with that?"

"Not yet." Cal runs his fingers along the ridge of Ray's trapped cock, feeling him push up against his hand. Unbutton his fly, buttonholes worn easy with use, tug his jeans down his hips a few inches. He's leaked a wet spot on the soft fabric of his gray boxerbriefs. Cal runs his tongue over the spot, nibbles lightly on the head of his cock through the fabric. Ray's fingers flex rhythmically on his shoulders. Cal glances up and catches him watching, his teeth worrying at his lower lip.

Enough teasing. Cal pauses just long enough to slide Ray's jeans and briefs off. Lick a long stripe up the underside of his cock, flicks his tongue across the head, tasting pre-come. Tastes so fucking good, musky and bittersweet.

"Whoah, hey," Ray says, sounding a little strangled. "Condom."

Cal groans and lets go, thunking his head on Ray's thigh. "Fuck. You're right." Scrabbles frantically in the pocket of his discarded jeans, finds one, rips the package open with fingers that are only shaking a little bit. Slicks it on and follows it with his mouth, sliding down slowly, until he's got the whole head in his mouth. Traces his tongue around the rim a few times, and then slides down all the way and starts to seriously suck.

Ray's babbling again, lots of _fucks_ and _oh gods_ , and _Cal_ , again and again, Cal's name, not Fraser's. There's no Fraser in this bed right now, just them.

Ray's getting close, thighs tensing, thrusting erratically, and Cal can feel him swell inside his mouth. Cal gets a hand down to his own cock just in time, and he's gone, just gone, moaning around Ray's cock as his orgasm rips right through him.

* * *

It takes Ray a while to get his motor functions back after that one. Eventually he starts to get chilly. Cal's lying there with his head resting on Ray's thigh, which can't be too comfortable, so he's thinking they were both out of it for a while. "Hey. Cal."

"Mmmm?"

"C'mere." Cal lifts his head, blinks, and eventually manages to slide up the bed.

Ray grabs the blankets and wraps himself around Cal's big, warm body-- his own portable radiator. They lie there for a while, until Ray's eyes are getting heavy and he's about to completely crash. After a while he can feel Cal shifting, trying to slide out from under him. Ray tightens his arms and growls.

"Let go, Ray," he whispers.

"Why? You gotta get home before the wife wakes up?"

"What?" Cal sounds baffled. "I don't have a wife."

Ray props himself up on his elbows, scowling. "Then why do you want to run out of here like I'm a bad case of beer goggles or something?"

"Huh? No, it's not--" Cal pauses, looking frustrated. "It isn't anything to do with you, okay?"

"No, that's not okay." He's pushing, he knows he's pushing, but dammit, he just wants to be cuddled for a while. Is that so much to ask? "Tell me why you have to go, cause I gotta tell you, right now I'm feeling pretty fucking used."

Cal grimaces and runs a hand across his face. "I have bad dreams," he says abruptly. "Nightmares. I move around a lot and sometimes I yell. You won't get a whole lot of sleep if I stay over, Ray."

Ray wants to ask what the nightmares are about, but he can tell it's one of the things Cal's got stuffed behind barbed wire and landmines and big signs that say _keep out_. "I'm willing to risk it."

Cal shakes his head. "You sure about that?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Now c'mere." Ray rolls onto his side, reaching a hand back to tug on Cal's arm until he spoons up behind him. "Comfy?"

"Yeah." Cal squeezes him, sort of a one-armed hug. Ray tucks his hand around Cal's, holding it against his chest.

Feels so damn nice to be held-- all warm and safe. Ray wonders if Fraser's got anyone keeping him warm up in Freezerland. Dief, maybe, if it's cold enough. He doesn't think anybody cuddles Fraser. Fraser doesn't let anybody get that close.

Eventually, Cal falls asleep, his breathing slowing, his arm going limp. Ray lies awake for a little while longer, thinking about snow falling outside a tiny cabin. There's a fire crackling in the fireplace, and Dief's curled up on the rug in front of it. Fraser's sitting at the kitchen table, reading his dad's journal.

Ray drifts off to the rustle of imaginary pages turning.


End file.
